Scoundrels
by Sasshaia
Summary: AU. Ten years can change a person.  In the past ten years, the turtles and Splinter all had separate experiences they went through that sent them down different paths.  But what could happen to make one of them betray the rest? WARNING Adult themes, Angst
1. Chapter 1

**A/N - **So this is an experimental short chapter fic that spawned from a dream I had. I barely remember the specifics of the dream, but the scenarios played over in my head until I finally decided to write them down. The format of the story was somewhat inspired by_ **Unforgivable Sinner?** _by _Midnightheir._ The story will have the first scene in the beginning in italics that comes in with little continuing bits each chapter, then the rest of each chapter will be a progressively earlier scene from the previous chapter. Please Review and tell me what you think. This is sort of an AU, and so there may seem to be a bit of OOCness in this story, but please believe that everything will be explained.

**DISCLAIMER - **TMNT belongs to Kevin Eastman, Peter Laird, Mirage Studios and 4Kids Entertainment.

* * *

_He depressed the button on his wristwatch remote that activated the device on the table. A soft moan echoed through the small meeting room, and soon four tags sprang from the circular disk to land on each of the four other occupants of the room. Another gently whirring sound followed and then all four targeted were enveloped in the tensile binding polymer that erupted from the tiny cartridge on each of them._

_Donatello stood in the corner, free from the blast area and surveyed his detainees with disgust. Each one returned their own bewildered stares and the occupants of the meeting room remained at a motionless silence for several long moments._

_Finally, one of the prisoners spoke. "YOU!" he growled. "How could you do this to us, Don? I thought we were family?"_

_Donatello's mouth twitched slightly as he brought his hand up to his beak to bite on the massive silver ring that rested up his beefy finger. His gaze was furious as he glanced at the speaker through his clenched teeth. "We were never family, Raphael. At least, we haven't been family for ten years."_

_- - - _

"Mikey! Hey bro, glad you could make it." Raphael ran out from behind the desk and embraced his little brother. It had been quite some time since they had last spoken, and, admittedly, they were at least on slightly better terms than the others.

Mike returned the hug. "Wow, look at Mr. Sentimental over here," he jibed. Bringing up Raphael's sensitive side usually earned the speaker a swift kick in the ass, but after ten years, Raphael had actually mellowed quite a bit. It was almost a necessity considering the position he held as the head of this secret underground group called simply, "The Organization."

Michelangelo stepped back from the hug, taking in his once hotheaded brother's laugh with slight grin. He glanced around and appraised the obvious high value of his surroundings, giving a low whistle to signify how impressed he was. "Dude Raph, you've been holdin' out on us," he stated as he sucked on the steel ring wedged in his lip. "All fancy and prim around here. I'm sure them tax payers love what ya've done with their money." He took several sweeps around the room, making sure to get his fingers on just about every odd and end around before he took up a spot leaning against the far wall.

Leonardo sat in one of the guest chairs that he had swiveled around to look at the orange clad sibling. His gaze ran up and down the turtle's body, taking in all the new piercings and tattoos that now adorned his green flesh. He scowled slightly and went back to polishing the katana in his lap, maintaining his bitter persona that he had kept through all these years.

Master Splinter was in the other guest chair of the room, situated alongside one wall of the lavish place. He was absently twiddling with the tassels found on the end of the window curtain. When Michelangelo arrived, he looked up for only the briefest period to give the turtle an unknowing politely empty smile before returning his fragile attention to the velvet tassels.

Donatello remained in the doorway, watching the small and yet tense family reunion play out in the room. He nervously brought his right hand up to his mouth and gently bit around on the silver ring resting neatly on his finger. His mouth fit nicely in the already present teeth marks found framing the shell of the turtle that took up the mounted position on the ring. Seeing his brothers and father in the same room again brought up some nostalgic feelings for him that made the future all the more satisfying.

Raphael, still smiling from Mikey's comments, returned to his plush leather seat behind the massive mahogany desk. But instead of sitting, he remained upright and proper as he addressed everyone in the room. "I hate ta cut the family reunion short, but we all came here for business I believe," he stated to everyone present. Leo did not take his eyes from his swords, but nodded to show he was listening. Mike watched him from the wall, crossing his arms and giving his brother that strange appraising look again. Master Splinter brought his legs up to his chest and curled into a fetal ball as he glanced up, sad eyes boring all his attention on Raphael. Donatello remained where he was.

Raphael cleared his throat. "As youse guys probably know, I've been havin' some…shall we say, 'issues,' with another little group. Namely, they've been following me and interrupting a lot of my practices. I'm sure we all know who I'm talkin' about here." There was a brief murmur of assent from the room before he continued. "Well, I haven't really done anythin' to them, but they got a beef with me that needs ta be taken care of. If they continue ta get in my way, a lot of things could be at stake and a lot of good people could get hurt." Leo grunted and Master Splinter's ears perked up at that. "Now, I'm sure none of here wants that. Now, I've been helpin' you guys out for years now, and I haven't really asked for anythin' in return, but right now, I'm desperate for help and people I can trust. And right now, the only people I can trust are family, and that means you guys.

"I'm also aware that most of ya have barely spoken ta each other fer awhile."

"You mean like Donnie over there," Leo interrupted with some cold indifference. "Haven't seen him in the whole ten years."

"Ever since I sent him away for training," Splinter spoke up. His voice was shallow and held no shred of the former confidence it once embodied. "I sent him away, and then we all drifted apart." The sorrow in his voice almost made a stab at Donatello's heart. Almost.

Raphael coughed again, clearly displeased with the interruptions. "Yes, well, Donnie here was the one who decided to bring us back together. And I'm glad he did so. I've missed youse guys, and I don' wanna spend another ten years without ya.

"But not to depress the mood, I really need ya all to pay attention. Don came to me, knowing the trouble the Organization was having and offered some to help. He came up with one o' his brilliant plans, but it required all of us back together. So he went and got us all here. He did somethin' none of us could."

There was a brief pause in Raph's musings as the others gradually murmured in agreement. After that, Raph turned to Don. "Can ya get the battle plans set up, now?" he asked.

Don froze for a moment before he fished out of his pocket a small circular device and set it on the ground of the doorway. He punched a couple buttons into his wristwatch controller and soon a small laser field was passing around the room. "Don't worry," Raph asserted after the sudden disturbed and panicky reactions from the others. "It's just to calibrate the hologram projector to the rooms size. The plan we're gonna show you is somethin' that's been worked on now for several months, and it will require all the skills we all have as well as some o' the new ones some of us got over the years." He seemed to look pointedly at Michelangelo and Splinter at that last comment. "And then, when it's all done, we can all go back ta livin' like a family again."

"You won't just throw us back out onto the street after this is all done?" Mike piped up in his familiar jovial joking voice. The one voice that seemed to change the least over the years, Don mused.

Raphael gave a coy smile. "Now Mikey, you know I wouldn't. There's no way I'd let you all back out onto the streets after this. But, I'd at least give you guys a nice dinner before destroying you all." The two siblings erupted into a familiar laughter, which resulted in the starting of a small smirk coming from Leo and a gently reminiscing smile from Splinter.

Donatello remained cool and emotionless throughout it all as he watched the small device on the ground work its way around the room. When it was finished, a small LED lit up on its top, signifying that it was ready. He picked it up and strode into the room, setting the small disk like object on Raphael's desktop. "Is it ready?" Raphael asked, and Don gave a quick nod before stepping back to the far wall on the opposite side of the entrance door from where Mikey was leaning. Raphael gave him a quick nod to begin the program.

"Come on," Mikey whined. "Let's get it over with already."

"Yes," Don muttered under his breath, and then, with a sudden burst of resolve, he straightened and looked each and every one of his former family members in the eyes and said, "Let's get it over with." And he depressed the activation key on his wristwatch.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N - **Realized that this story is going to be a LOT darker than I first envisioned, so way uping the rating on it.**  
**

**DISCLAIMER - **TMNT belongs to Kevin Eastman, Peter Laird, Mirage Studios and 4Kids Entertainment.

* * *

_Ten years!" Donatello bellowed. "Ten years ago, I had a family, but then I was sent off to train. To become a better person. Well guess what. I became a better person, a better turtle, a better just about everything." Donatello stalked around, circling his family like a vulture savoring the scent of fresh road kill. "And what did you four do? You went on with life and enjoyed your own things. You ran away from each other and me if I ever came back. This isn't my first time back you know, I came back a few years later, but you were all already gone from the lair, from my life."_

"_You think we abandoned you, my son?" Splinters sad and mellow voice trailed across the stiff brothers. "We did, didn't we? We abandoned you to our own deceits, thinking…no, believing that if Leonardo would delay himself a year during his training, that you would never come back." His eyes widened in fear and sorrow as he watched his genius son eye them all with apparent disdain. "And for that, you now betray us and condemn us?"_

_Donatello growled as he glared daggers at his father. "No, sensei. You all betrayed me," he accused. "You all left me and the world behind, didn't you?" He shuddered at his own ferocity and quickly went back to biting on his ring. "My associates will be here soon to pick you all up, and then they will do with you what they've wanted to do for a long time."_

_Raphael stared in horror at his brother. "Wait, y-yer not…ya can't be?" he stammered._

_Donatello gave him a steely glance before he turned to the door and prepared to leave. "Yes Raphael," he said with a conviction they had not heard in their brother for a long time. "You are correct in thinking that I am working for that exact group that was so called, 'troubling' you."_

- - -

Donatello straitened the collar on his shirt as he stepped through the threshold of the raucous warehouse. The cacophonous din from the partying teenagers was something that could be heard from several blocks away, but nothing was ever done about it considering the garage was located in an all but abandoned portion of the city where the only people who lived there did not have the capacity or willpower to complain. Much of the noise came from the blaring band pumping out its heavy metal and punk music complete with pyrotechnics and all. Arcade machines blipped and squealed as they were beaten on with tremendous fervor like they were all jembai drums. A half pipe off on one side had two skateboard riders crisscrossing within inches of each other to fly up and do flip tricks and lip tricks as the long lined procession of impatient skaters and bladers waited their turn to hit the curved wood.

A passing teen stopped and did a quick double back to look at Donatello as he stood barely through the threshold of the building. The boy, probable only fourteen or fifteen, already had several piercings running down each ear. He inspected Donatello with interest, which Don allowed as he watched the boy with an emotionless gaze.

"So you one a' the boss's bros, right?" the teen quipped. Don nodded and the boy smirked at him. "We're under strict orders ta bring ya to 'im if one of youse ever show up. Follow me."

The boy led him through the constantly shifting labyrinth of bodies, noise and lights as they pushed and overran their way towards the back office of the old garage. Upon arrival, the boy instructed Don to wait outside while he told "the Boss Man" about him. Don took his place leaning nonchalantly against the wall next to the door in order to keep an open ear on the conversation in the room. Despite the clamor reverberating through all the cement of the building, years of ninja training had disciplined him enough to drown out the sound enough to hear the room.

"Hey boss. I think one of yer brothers is here," came the boy's voice.

"Oh yeah? Which one, Blue mask or no mask," Came the oh so familiar voice of the reply.

"No mask, but a bit twitchy," the boy replied.

There was a slight pause before the reply. "Ah right. Whatever's wrong, Raph's got the right ta see me when he wants. I mean he funds us well enough. Ya can tell 'im ta come in."

Don brought his hand up and bit down gently on the small turtle shell. When the boy emerged from the room, he quickly dropped his hand and returned to trying to act nonchalant. The boy waved him in, and Don stepped into a room filled with a private bar, lounge couch, TV and video game systems. Michelangelo sat lazily on the couch sandwiched between two animal pattern pillows, his eyes focused intently on the racing game that flew across the screen. "Whaddya want Raph?" he asked sounding slightly perturbed by the situation and not bringing his head over to look at the real identity of the arrival.

Don's lip twitched, almost giving away a genuine smirk. He stepped up behind the couch and leaned on the back. "Sorry to disappoint you Mikey," Don said in a casual voice that did not mirror his current mental state.

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Don found himself pinned to the ground under the full weight of his brother who had seated himself firmly and resolutely on his stomach. He blinked away the initial shock and glanced up at his enthusiastic brother. Michelangelo was looking at him with a feral smile, brimming with a row of porcelain white teeth. His eyes held the usual sparkle of youth that they always had despite his age of nearing thirty. He straddled his brother, sitting upright with his arms crossed, a posture of pure dominance in his air. "You are NOT getting' up until you promise not to leave again, you little son of a bitch," Mike ordered.

Donatello chuckled merrily and put a hand over his heart. "Course bro," he agreed. "I'm back and I'm staying."

"Damn straight you are," Mike said as he stood up and held out his hand to help his brother to his feet. Don gladly accepted the offer and brushed off the button down shirt and jeans he now wore before Mike led him over to the couch to take a seat.

Michelangelo, by comparison, did not seem to have as much interest in clothes as Don did, as he seemed to have kept the same apparel after all these years, although the wrist bands were now gone and his bandana was now more of a dull fool's gold orange and did not cover his eyes. Instead it seemed to rest neatly and gently on his eye ridge. He also now sported several tattoos and piercings. Two steel rings jutted from the skin just over his right eye, one from his nose, another from the left corner of his lower lip, and whenever he let loose one of his patented bellowing laughs, a small glint indicated the stud wedged firmly in his tongue. Across his arms were several tattoos; some seemingly random tribal designs adorned his right bicep along with a winding serpent that spiraled down the same arm. On his right, a sleeve of ink consisting mostly of graffiti art complete with blocky lettering and many sided jagged polygons stretched all the way from his wrist to disappear behind his plastron and shell. But the most impressive of the designs was the massive phoenix that somehow covered the entirety of his plastron.

"So how did they get the needles to pierce the carapace?" Don inquired, gesturing the flaming bird across his brother's chest.

"Fragile glass needles," Mike explained running his hand over a wing, admiring the design. "A fucking pain to use, both for me and the guy who done it. Also cost a fortune considering how special the request was." He dropped his hand and gave his brother that feral grin once more. "Now there ain't no way in hell we're talkin' about me right now. You! You've been gone for, what, ten years now?"

Don nodded. "Just about."

"Shit Don! So tell me about it man," Mike practically bounced in his seat. "Tell me about _your_ special training vacation."

Don shrugged. "There isn't much to tell. I spent most of it doing the same things I used to do at home except for a lot less dealing with fixing broken things and more the actual engineering." Mikey smiled coyly at the memory brought up. "I sort of always felt guilty for not doing what Splinter asked me to do, and I ended up telling myself over and over again that I would get to the actual training, but I never did. I eventually just started wondering if this whole thing wasn't just master Splinter's elaborate way of telling me not to wind up focusing all my attention on one thing."

Mike barked out laughter. "I wouldn't put it past him, Don."

Don laughed as well, but it was false and artificial which caused him to reach up and bite his ring again, something that did not go unnoticed by Mike. "That better not have been what you ate for dinner all those years," he jibed.

Don gave another laugh through clenched teeth. "No," he admitted as he dropped his hand and examined the metal of the shell that look like it was starting to collapse in on itself. "This is just a nervous habit I've developed. But enough of that. I really do want to hear about you Mike. What have you been up to?"

Mike laughed again. "You never could handle talkin' about yourself for long. A computer chip or other appliance, sure, but never yourself. Learn to milk the spotlight a little once and a while. Of course, not that I mind picking up said spotlight when you run off stage to puke."

"So eloquent with your words there Michelangelo," Don retorted slyly.

Mike feigned a grimace. "Oooh, full name from a brother. I been bad." He quickly smiled and brought his leg up to rest atop his other in a casual manner, lazily bouncing his foot to the now muffled beats of the punk music. "Well, anyway, as ya can see, I've done fairly well. I got a nice little group goin' here. 'The Rejected,' that's what we are." He held up his hand so his central finger was down and the other two were outstretched as if in salute to his posse. "We're the gutter trash the city threw out. The shit they dumped out of their chamber pots a hundred years ago. I help these kids out when they've run off from home, escaped from the assholes and dicks that raised them, and I give them stuff to do, places to hang out and friends to lean on. All I ask is they do a few favors for me once in awhile."

"And you have been doing this ever since I left?" Don asked.

Mike shook his head. "Nah. A couple a years after you left is when we all fell apart. I stayed with sensei the longest, but I needed to get out of the lair after awhile. It sort of reminded me too much of you guys."

"How sentimental of you."

"Yeah, well, I always have been the emotional one. Anyway, Raph got that sweet gig of his goin' shortly before I left, and when I did finally leave, I sent him word, and then he sent me word back offering to sponsor this here Safe House and requesting that I watch it and make sure things go all right here. It was too sweet a deal, I just had ta take it."

"I can imagine," Don agreed.

"So how long have you been in town?"

"About a week, I'd say."

Mikey frowned with his usual grace of acting hurt. "It took you a week back in the Big Apple until ya finally came and saw yer favorite bro, bro?"

Don laughed, although that strange pang of insincerity ran through him again and he barely restrained himself from biting on the ring again. "Sorry Mike, I actually had to meet everyone else first."

Mike raised his steel encrusted eye ridge. "Oh really? So you've seen everyone else already? How are they doin'?"

"Pretty good it seems. I actually just came from meeting Leo before I came to talk to you."

"And how did you fare with him?" Mike asked, his voice obviously displaying Don should have had a hard time.

"Not too badly, just a little sword pointing and waving, and a few threats. See, the thing is Mikey," Donatello leaned forward in his seat to emphasize his point. "I'm sort of here on an errand from Raph. He was the first of you guys I met with, and he mentioned some problems he needed help with. I thought we could all get back together and do a little reminiscing before we give him a little helping hand. So what do you say?"

Mike shrugged. "Raph knows he's got my help whenever he asks for it. Now normally I would get upset he didn't come down here and ask me in person, but I think he sent the next best thing. Yeah, sure, I'll be there to help, but you might have a hell of a time getting Leo and our father to help."

Don gave him a coy smile of his own. "I actually already got them. Remember when I said you were the last of them that I met with?"

Mike blinked for a second before he slapped his face with his hand. "Heh, I always did forget exactly how persuasive you were. So they're actually gonna help with this?"

"Yes."

"Well then you can count me in. You know I can't be shown up. You give me the time and place and I'll be there."

"How about tomorrow night, 10:00pm at Raphael's penthouse," Don supplied.

"You got it." Mike held out his hand and Don took it, clasping it firmly in a brotherly shake as the echoing music of the punk players suddenly crescendoed to a deafening finale of screams, growls and bass beats. The walls rattled and even a few of the still solid panes of glass left in the windows shattered. The stomping, rolling, punching and overall thunderous clamor that usually erupted from teenagers in enclosed spaces quaked through the neighborhood as the two newly reunioned brothers leaned back to reminisce on their old childhood.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N - **Please, no one kill me for this chapter. There are reasons for everyone acting the way they are, I guarantee you. This is how I write so please just stick with it. This story will only be six chapters long. An epilogue may come up, but I have not decided on that yet. I will have to see how long the last chapter is.

**DISCLAIMER - **TMNT belongs to Kevin Eastman, Peter Laird, Mirage Studios and 4Kids Entertainment._  
_

* * *

_Donatello stepped out of the building housing Raphael's penthouse and greeted his contact. "They're all up top and waiting for you Vigil," he said._

_The man nodded, his eyes going solemn behind the mask he wore. Don grimaced and bit down hard on the turtle and walked to the nearest car. "Let's head over to HQ and get everything cleared," he instructed coldly as he forced back any unwanted bitter emotions he had no time to deal with._

_The man took his seat in the passenger side of the old convertible just as Don started to rev the engine. They were on the road and driving in silence seconds later, the tall buildings of the local downtown area passing them by. The surrounding cold structures of glass, steel and concrete bounced images of the stars and moon between each other in a mockingly jovial manner that only made the nightly tension of the city all the more bleaker._

_Finally, sick of the drowning silence. Vigil spoke, "Is there something you wanted to say, Mr. Hamato?"_

_Don's face contorted into an even harder angry frown. "No sir," he insisted. "I just want to finish this job up once and for all."_

- - -

He had spent the last couple days looking in vain for him, although Raphael had insisted that this was the sort of thing that might happen. Apparently they all heard only scattered words from their most estranged family member over the course of the years, as it was that he seemed to live his life as more of a nomad among the small Manhattan Island. Those few words that were dolled out, however, apparently were not of the most flattering of orations.

Don frowned at his lack of success and sidestepped into an alley to lean against the wall, giving his weary legs a slight reprieve from their exertion. He sighed heavily as he scratched at the itching the tag of his shirt caused on the back of his neck. Lifting one leg up, he brushed away a small handful's worth of debris that had accumulated in the cracks of his calloused soles.

It was just as he was brushing away the gravel bits of his second foot that he heard the scream. At the end of the alley Don had claimed, a young woman ran past the mouth using one of the many crisscrossing passageways. A dark shadow appeared on the wall, moving to chase the woman and swiftly disappeared beyond the edge of the building where the woman had gone as well. The fact that the black visage had no apparent body to accompany it only perked Donatello's interest in the situation all the more.

Planting his feet on the ground, he straightened, earning him a loud popping sound from his back that he promptly ignored, and ambled down the alley to peer around the corner. He arrived just in time to see the long lost owner of the shadow drop the final few feet off the fire escape to land as soundlessly as ever on the rough pavement. The woman, who Don now noticed had run herself into a dead end, was frantically trying to scramble under a pile of debris and garbage to hide in a last ditch effort to get away from her pursuer.

The figure calmly walked, his gait fluid and graceful although unusually anxious, towards the cowering woman and stopped before her, towering over her like he was the Colossus of Rhodes. He bent down to look at her, her trembling form crinkling the newspaper draped clumsily over her head for protection. The figure cocked his head at her in an almost quizzical manor, as if he were studying her like a specimen found in a lab.

There was a sudden blur of motion that made Don blink. As his eyes opened, the figure was no longer bent, nor was he even facing the girl. He was instead rubbing the newspaper the girl had umbrellaed herself with down the length of a long glinting piece of steel that had obviously been removed from one of the two holsters on the figure's back. The girl was no longer trembling, and in fact was quite still now, lying in her corner, unmoving. The only motion in the alley beyond the gentle polishing the figure was doing came from the rolling ball that slowly made its way across the alley to stop halfway between Don and the figure.

Don brought his hand up and bit down on the shell as he stepped out and headed towards the shadowy ball. He had only gotten a few steps into the alley when he was suddenly forcefully pressed against the wall of a nearby building, the bright steel glinting in the moon light just below his chin. He stared in shock at the blue mask that encompassed his brother's eyes as he looked at him with a fierce ferocity that sent an icy wave over Don's bones.

Leonardo did not break away upon recognition of who he had trapped, much to Donatello's dismay, as the steel of his ninjato pressed against the skin of his throat was becoming quite worrisome. Finally, after almost a whole minute of silent glaring, Leonardo stepped back and turned his shell to Don, removing the blade from his brother's throat and sheathing it on his back.

Donatello grimaced and rubbed his throat, warming the area the cold steel had pressed against. "So, you're back now?" Leo asked in a dull monotone that almost seemed to growl like a prowling wolf. Donatello looked at him now, studying his brother's form. In the dim shadows, Don could barely make out the fact that the only gear Leo had on was a belt, the strap that held his ninjato in place, his navy bandana and a series of cloth bands across his torso. The bandana, Don had noted, only had one eyehole for Leo's right eye. Looking at his back in the shallow light, Don was able to make out several chips in the shell where whole chunks of the carapace were simply gone to expose the soft under flesh. As Leo stepped back towards where the girl lay, he passed through the moonlight and Don saw the many deep scars that adorned his arms and legs.

He followed Leo down the alley, but stopped to stand over the shadowy ball. It was a head, just as he had thought. It was the head of the girl whose body was now lying lifeless under a pile of garbage in the corner of the alley. "So what did she do?" he asked Leo who was watching the pooling blood ooze from the garbage to stain the already oily cement a deadly maroon.

Leo shrugged. "Prostitution, thieving, basically being a pile of useless flesh all around." He turned away from the corpse, scowling at Don as he expected a torrent of lectures from him.

Don merely looked between the body and Leo, a sad understanding on his face. "I've been looking for you for over several days now," Don said. "Splinter and Raph both said it would be hard to locate you."

Leo hesitated a moment and then shrugged. "I move around a lot." He gave the now quite cold and gray body one last disgusted look before turning and leaping onto a fire escape that took him to the shadowy roofs.

Don followed him seconds later with all the ease of a trained ninja. Although that did not prevent the sickening pop from echoing as he leapt and landed over the final hurdle of the roof barricade. He straightened, resting one of his thick-scaled hands on the lower part of his shell where the popping had issued from. "Oi, I think I'm getting too old for this," he exclaimed casually.

"You've been slacking," Leo asserted as he stood several feet away leaning against an air vent. Now, in the full breath of the moonlight, Don could finally see him fully. The Chips in his shell were almost mirrored by his plastron, which had dozens of gauges and nicks scattered throughout the area, including a deep hole in his left breast the size of a fist directly over his heart. Across his face passed a cavernous scar that stretched straight down his left side, disappearing beneath the bandana right where his left eye should have been. It certainly explained the lack of a hole in the blue cloth. The gear he wore was tattered and falling apart. A series of crisscrossing suspender-like bands spread star form around his entire carapace, obviously designed to give additional support to his flawed shell. "You spend ten years on your special training session, and then, when you come back, you can barely do a simple air flip. Did you dishonor sensei by abandoning you training when you left? Did you spend that time playing around with your little mechanical toys Donatello?" Leo's voice was harsh and feral, which made Don bring up his hand to bite the turtle ring.

"I'm sorry," was all Don could say to Leo then.

Leo, however, was not finished. "You should have taken that training seriously. I didn't take mine seriously either and it cost me." He gestured vaguely to his face where he was missing an eye. "Ten years of slacking off. Did you expect to come back and have everyone protect you like you used to do? What was your plan Don?" He took three brisk steps forward and landed a hard punch across his Brother's beak. "That's for never telling as anything, not sending word, nothing."

Don sat on the ground where he had fallen and looked up at his brother. The moon reflected off of the bottom of Leo's single remaining eye, and then a small stream flooded and fell down the bandana. He fell forward and collapsed on his brother in a massive hug, sobbing into Don's ear, "And this is for finally coming back."

Don had his arms stretched behind Leo a short distance, unsure as to what he wanted to do with them. He moved to return the embrace, one hand on his brother's back and the other on his head, but at the last minute, he stopped himself and let his arms hang limply at his sides until Leo had finished his crying.

After several minutes, Leo broke away, his eyes dry but still red and his face a sudden mask of the original deadly scowl he adorned. He stood and stepped back to the air vent, turning his back on Don once again. "Raph told me what happened, Leo," Don said in a soothing voice, trying desperately to hide the quaver. "He mentioned that you were doing some in depth training after it."

"I won't let it happen again," Leo replied with cold steel in his voice. "I will keep it from happening again, to me or any of you."

Don sighed and turned away as well. He glanced down into the alley to give the body of the girl one last look. He shuddered and switched his attention to the nearly full moon in the sky. "I came with a message from Raph," he said. He felt Leo's air shift from his hard, cold shell. "He needs help Leo. He needs help from all of us." Don turned back to watch Leo who remained motionless, face cast down as if a fascinating insect dance was taking place at his feet. Don continued. "I…I know you prefer to be on your own and the thought of an organized team mission does not appeal to you anymore, but Raph needs-."

"Is it your plan?" Leo asked suddenly.

Don stared wide-eyed at Leo's back, unsure of the question. He wanted to give his brother the one he wanted to hear, but which that was, after the previous outburst, was eluding him at the moment. "Is the plan Raph wants to use one that you made up or not Donnie?" Leo repeated.

Don bit down on the silver shell again as he took a deep breath to calm himself down. "It's mine, although Raph made a few adjustments to it," he admitted.

Leo seemed to relax, but his head did not move from its bent position. He continued to contemplate the rough roof gravel with the fascination a baby shows a bright color. "Alright," he eventually announced. "I'll help. If my family needs me, I'll help them all out."

Don sighed in relief. "Thanks Leo, now I only need to get Mikey to help."

"I can lead you to his gang's hideout," Leo said, the usual steel back in his voice, and the feral glare back in his eye as he faced Donatello once more. "After that, I'm going to go ahead and have a few words with Raphael before we all meet for a briefing."

Don nodded in agreement and bounded along side Leo as he was led over the rooftops for several blocks. After nearly an hour of running, they stopped on a roof across from a massive warehouse that had music blaring out of it as if it were one massive loudspeaker.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N - **So this is probably my favorite chapter so far, as it really gets creepy towards the end, at least I feel like it does. I was actually shaking while I was writing it, so I hope you guys enjoy it, sort of.

I have also decided there will be an epilogue at the end of this, so just two more chapters and the epilogue to go. I have also changed the summary to what I hope is more eye catching.

**DISCLAIMER - **TMNT belongs to Kevin Eastman, Peter Laird, Mirage Studios and 4Kids Entertainment._  
_

* * *

_Donatello removed himself from the confines of his convertible and glanced down at the small glint of reflected moonlight that winked at him from his ring. He stared at it for several moments giving it a sad and distant look. He barely noticed as vigil came around and clapped him on the shoulder. "You okay?" he asked the musing terrapin._

_Don sighed and removed the now highly flawed band of silver. "I made this specifically for this assignment," he explained. "The signal that came from it was activated when I bit down on the shell. I spent the entire time setting it up like it was a nervous twitch so they wouldn't think anything of the move. My use for it is over, so I should just throw it away since it won't work a second time, but now that I look at it, I don't want to throw it away."_

"_It reminds ya of them, don't it?" Vigil commented, and Don only nodded in reply. "Tha's okay really. Ya should have somethin' to remind yerself of them."_

_Don shook his head and glared at the offensive piece of metal for one second more before hurling it down the road to disappear into the darkening skylight. "No!" He asserted with an eerily angry conviction. "I don't need anything more to do with them." He stomped off towards the building that acted as headquarters leaving his contact to watch him and sigh in concern._

_- - - _

Splinter was exactly where Raphael had promised he would be in that small clearing in central park near the old pumping station that used to be their lair. He sat still in the lotus position, his cracking walking stick resting atop his thighs. The sight was something that always used to be the atypical meditative pose for the old rat save for one minor detail: his eyes were open rather than closed.

Don spent several minutes watching his unblinking father at the edge of the clearing. Splinter seemed almost to be watching something, but only one who did not know the old rat any better would assume such things. It was quite obvious that he was in a deep conversation with himself in that meditative pose, although the subject of that conversation was not something Donatello was able to divine from watching.

Carefully and cautiously, as his quarry was a highly deadly ninja master, Donatello inched his way towards where his aging father knelt facing away from him, waiting for any sign of movement to come. None came, and when Don was finally within a few feet, he cleared his throat in one final attempt to get his father's attention. The rat stirred softly from his meditation and, without moving or blinking, said, "Are you the client my son Raphael told me about?"

Don flinched at the word client, reaching his hand up to bite his ring for a brief second. "No sensei, it's me," Don said in a slightly cracking voice. He had no idea how hard this was going to be, but he pressed on, reminding himself as to why he was here. "I've come back."

Splinter did not look up. Instead, he continued to watch the spot in the grass in front of him that was obscured from Don's vision. He barely saw the corners of his father's mouth curl up in an almost sad smile. "You sound like a son of mine I lost a long time ago," Splinter said in a voice creaking with age and sadness. "He was gentle and wise and loyal to everyone he met and befriended. He left and I never heard from him again. My other sons left shortly after he did." Splinter shifted slightly to peer at Don out of the corner of his eye. "Are you gentle and wise as well? If you are, what business would you have with me?"

Don knelt down and fiercely turned his father around to look him in the eyes. "It's me, sensei," Don said slowly, accentuating every word as if Splinter were a two year old being told not to talk to strangers. Splinter merely smiled at him, although his eyes betrayed that he was far from the present time and space, as they seemed to be looking through Don to some nondescript location behind him.

"You look like him too," Splinter commented before breaking Don's loose hold on him as it had slackened in the shock of Splinter's lack of recognition. He turned around and continued contemplating that elusive space in front of him.

Don stood, took a step back and walked around his father in order to take in the full breath of what he had become. His eyes were bloodshot and lost. His clothes were tattered and stitched together in numerous places where they had been torn, but that did not detract from the remarkable quality of the fabric that the kimono had been sown from. It was a beautifully made Japanese silk attire, sleeveless and covered in a beautiful motif of perfect pink cherry blossoms inlaid across a deep burgundy brown back drop. A leafless cherry blossom tree rested over his father's left breast. His fur was matted and stained dark red in places, except for the inner areas of his elbows which had no fur and exposed patches of peach-white skin with what looked like thin red scratches running down the clearings.

Don looked in front of Splinter, trying to see what his father was studying so intently, despite how sure he was that the old ninja was not looking at anything at all.

"I'm waiting for that violet to finish closing for the night," Splinter said as if answering Don's unspoken question. Don frowned and redirected his attention to the ground. Eventually, in the dim light of the moon, Don found a tiny speck of blue in the field of hunter green located at the very tip of a small flower bulb. "It's a fascinating thing that a flower can do, close itself."

Don bit his ring again, realizing just how senile and delirious his father sounded. He moved to embrace his father, but Splinter was not done talking. "It's strange really. All my life and the lives of my sons, we have only bloomed and opened up to the world at night, showing the stars and moon about our beauty because the darkness can hide us. But this flower, it blooms during the day and shows off its beauty to the sun. But still it hides, having found this secluded little glade to roost and nest in, away from the prying eyes of all those that take its beauty for granted."

Don froze where he was, hunched over, arms outstretched for an embrace he did not feel like giving anymore. Glancing between to the nearly closed flower bulb to his father, he could only swallow and ask, "What do you mean, sensei?"

But Splinter merely shook his head and smiled a serene and innocent smile. "It means nothing, just a fascinating little thing." He looked up at him and took in Don fully with his eyes, that innocent smile still on his face. "And Sir, I would very much appreciate it if you did not call me sensei. That is reserved for my sons. Instead you may call me Hamato. Now what sort of business can I interest you with? My son Raphael did not go into specifics when he sent me the message."

Don smiled as his vision blurred from the fresh tears pooling in his eyes. He glanced down at those patches of skin on his father's arms again before saying, "I really am your son, sensei. I'm Donatello. I've come back. I'm Hamato Donatello."

Splinter just kept smiling serenely at Don. He reached out and stroked Don's head with one gentle and prickly paw. "Sir, if you wish to play this game of saying you are my son Donatello, then I will play along. Now what was this business that Raphael had you meet me for?"

Don sat back on the cold dewy grass. He drew up his legs to his plastron and wrapped one arm around them, hugging them close to his body, while he reached up and bit down on the ring harder than ever. Fresh tears began pouring from his eyes as silent sobs made his body shake. He shivered as a cool night breeze seemed to steal away every ounce of warmth he once had.

Splinter reached forward and embraced Don with his warm yet shaking hands. "There, there, my son," he coaxed. "There's no reason to cry right now." The words were empty of emotion as Splinter was playing the game right now, acting as a responsible parent rather than being one, which only made the spoken words sting Donatello's ears in a deathly mockery.

But despite his annoyance at the words, Don could only relish the feel of his father's strong embrace. He quickly melted back into a sobbing child as he wished things were back to the way they were fifteen years ago when they were all still a family. Right then, more than ever, he highly regretted staying away for so long and wished that he could have taken it all back just so that Splinter would look at him and call him son again with all the feeling and emotion that he used to hear in that one simple word.

He was starting to regret coming back. He had come back to betray them all, he knew, and he had accepted that. He thought it would be easy, but it wasn't, and now, as he sat there cuddled and crying into the softness of silk and fur that so reminded him of his father, he wondered if he could actually go through with it

A rustling from some bushes at the edge of the glade disturbed their peace, and they both quickly broke away from the embrace. They watched as two figures emerged from the foliage, each one armed with a heavy-duty submachine gun. The gentle innocent smile never left his face as Splinter stood and seemed to greet them with familiarity. "Neumann, Colehart, Raphael told me I was meeting a new client today, not you," Splinter said cheerily.

The two men sneered at him. "We ain't he'e from Raph-AYE-EL," one said pointing his gun at an unflinching Splinter. "We he'e 'bout tha' last shipment ya sent us. It was half as much as we agreed on."

Splinter chuckled merrily. "I think you are mistaken sir. I told you how much you could get for half a million and you tried to say you deserved more for it. You left insisting on double what I offered you, but I never agreed on giving you double for what you offered me." He smiled at them, and Don felt a horrifying chill run down his shell.

Don watched as both men scowled at his father, and he then noticed the fading fuchsia dragons that ran down each of their arms. "We ain't playin' yo' game no mo'e," The Purple Dragon waving the gun around insisted. "You gonna give us what we'ah do, or youse gonna find some new holes in both that pretty li'l dress ya have on, and in yo' funky little froggy son ovah de'e." He waved the gun haphazardly in Don's direction.

Splinter's smile widened and his eyes seemed to almost sparkle with a life in them that had been vacant ever since Don first saw him sitting in the glade. "Now Mr. Neumann, I told you what would happen if you crossed me," he stated. Don shivered as there was a menacing iciness to the tone Splinter used that was far too alien for it to have actually been his father.

There was a sudden brown-red and gray blur of motion as Don blinked, and the next thing he saw was Splinter kneeling on the back of Neumann, his arms pinned under furry knees and the tip of the cracked walking stick placed gently on his temple. Don glanced around to see both guns lying lonely on the ground, yards from anyone's hand. The other man, Colehart apparently, was lying motionless on the ground, his head swiveled around so it faced backwards and small lumps of shattered bone made mountains in the flesh of his throat.

Splinter glared down at the man beneath him, the calm and innocent smile remained on his face. "I told you sir, you must never threaten me whenever you disagree with my prices," he said soft and soothingly, whispered in to the now terrified man's ear. Splinter stood, still standing on the man's back, looking down at him with superiority in his eyes. His hand flexed on the top of his walking stick as he positioned for a firmer grip. "Or else you pay the price."

And then, with a swift motion of wiry rat muscles, the staff sank six inches as a sickening crack of shattering skull echoed through the glade. There was no more terror in Neumann's eyes. Now his eyes only stared emptily at the finally closed bulb of the singular violet flower the remained peacefully undisturbed in the dew.

Splinter removed his staff from the deceased and cleaned the end off with a small rag he had produced from within his kimono. "I'm sorry you witnessed that my son," he remarked casually, throwing the dirty rag away like it was just a leaf on the wind. "I hope this doesn't detract from any business arrangements we might make in the future."

Don's mouth was left agape as he stared at the lifeless corpses before him. He swallowed, forcing down the nausea that had suddenly decided to plague his stomach and looked up into those beaming eyes of the mutant he once called father. He set his jaw firm and stood up from his seat on the ground, trying as best he could to casually brush off the stray dirt that clung to his jeans. "It won't, sensei," he said. "I'm only here because Raphael wanted to speak with you, and your other sons. He wanted to ask for help from you all, and he thought that I would have the best luck in persuading you to help. So I ask you now, will you help us?"

Splinter merely kept smiling as he walked over to Donatello, meandering around the dead bodies as if they were simple mounds of earth, to rest a paw on his sons shoulder. "Of course I will help him. He is my son after all." Splinter directed Don to the edge of the glade. "Go ahead and inform him that I will meet with him in five days. In the meantime, I need to go and…prepare myself." Splinter gestured for Don to leave and the obedient son obeyed.

Before he was completely obscured by trees, Don turned to watch his father procure a long, thin object from his kimono again and hold it up to the moonlight so that it refracted miniscule bands of rainbows through the clearing. Don turned away and continued through the central park woods, reaching up and biting down on that poor sea turtle on his finger harder than ever.

No, there was no going back now. He would finish the job. He was going to go through with everything. His family really _had_ betrayed him.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N - **Okay, so this chapter was a little difficult to get through, but I hope it turned out okay. Last chapter will have big reveal in it, and I hope you are all looking forward to it.

**DISCLAIMER - **TMNT belong to Kevin Eastman, Peter Laird, Mirage Studios and 4Kids Entertainment._  
_

* * *

_The cheering in the main room of Headquarters was deafening as it bled through the empty hallways of the building and found its way into Donatello's office. He was not the only one away from the reveling of a job well done. His contact was also with him, still wearing his dark brown coat and white plastic mask. "Want to talk about it Mr. Hamato?" Vigil asked._

_Don looked up from his paper work to stare into the amber eyes of the man he knew so well. "You can stop calling me that Casey," Don instructed. "The jobs over with as soon as I get this all filed away."_

_Vigil sighed and removed the white hockey mask from his face, revealing a gruff man with half-a-week old stubble on his chin with greasy black hair. "Donnie, let me do that," he offered his obviously tired looking friend. "You don't need to worry about your family right now, especially when you need to worry about what you are going to say tomorrow."_

_Donatello sighed, gently setting down his pen and grinding the heels of his palms deep into his eyes. "Right, I forgot that it's coming up so soon. They want to handle those four as soon as possible, don't they." Don stood and fetched his coat from the hanger on the wall. "I guess I'll go home and sleep it off. Thanks for this Casey."_

"_No problem, man," Casey Jones said as he slapped his partner on the back, urging him out of the office and home for a well deserved rest._

_- - - _

Donatello shivered slightly in the musty dankness that surrounded him. The low temperature in the below ground parking structure seeped through his light windbreaker as he tried to absorb the little warmth given off by the flickering, moth-ridden lamps. Oil stains carpeted the cement floor with stray cigarette butts and burned rubber tire tracks, creating a dull mosaic that was probably only cheerful to the eyes of a rodent.

He wrapped his arms around himself and huddled behind a pillar as if a wind were what was sapping his strength despite being completely surround by the sarcophagus stonewalls. He heard someone approaching behind him and peeked out from his hiding spot to identify his guest. "Care for a cigarette sir?" he called to the shadowy figure he spotted on the edge of the lamplight.

"Absolutely," came the reply. "I have a full pack with me, but they're all just Kools."

Don sighed with relief. The password was given and he stepped out of his hiding place and greeted his contact appropriately. "Thanks for coming vigil. Care for a _real _cigarette?"

Vigil shook his head. "An old engineering friend of mine convinced me to quit ten years ago," he explained, a hint of remorse in his voice. "I kind of like to keep my promises."

Donatello shrugged in response. "Then do you mind if I light up?" he asked as he withdrew a Camel from his coat pocket.

Vigil sighed and shook his head, allowing Don to light up the offending paper cylinder with a zippo he kept hidden up his sleeve. Don took a quick drag before bringing it away, letting a cascade of charcoal gray smoke escape from his nose. "Why did you ask me here Don?" Vigil asked. "Are you having second thoughts about the mission, because you told me you were okay with it?"

Don fingered the cigarette in his hand for a moment. "This really helped," he explained. "I know, from what I've read in medical text books, that the warmth felt from cigarettes and the like is just an illusion caused by your nerve synapses being stimulated by the toxins and intoxicants found in the drugs. But still, I can't argue that it _feels_ genuine."

Vigil remained silent. He knew Donatello would not have contacted him to chat about cigarettes. He was not so careless. Don would only arrange a meeting with him if he had something really important to discuss, and the fact that he was starting by trying to discuss something so mundane merely emphasized the fact that whatever he was going to say, it was big.

Deciding that they were plenty past pretenses, Don took another drag on the cigarette, burning it down almost to the filter and exhaled slowly, reveling in the calming feeling the drug was giving his body. When the smoke had completely escaped, he looked Vigil straight in his eyes buried behind the plastic mask. "How do you feel about four birds with one stone?" he asked finally.

Vigil's eyes widened, a motion Don could detect even behind that mask he wore. He twirled the dwindling cigarette between his fingers a couple more times, allowing his comment to fully sink in. Seeing the cigarette was finished, he dropped it on the ground and ground it into a nearby oil stain, officially adding his own little touches to the murky art piece beneath them.

Finally having sorted his thoughts, Vigil just shook his head. "Don, we only need you to help us with Raphael," he explained. "I can't ask you to deal with your other brothers and father as well."

"You aren't asking," Don said. "I'm offering. If what Raphael told me is true, then I'm positive that you are interested in Leo, Mikey and Splinter as well, are you not?"

"What is it that Raphael told you?" Vigil asked.

"Everything," Don said. "Now tell me, is what he told me about my brother's true or isn't it? I know you know what he said. I found the bug on my shirt. Everything that we discussed has been recorded and filed, and since you're my handler, you are almost certainly privy to those recordings."

Vigil turned away, obscuring what little of his face showed in the friendly shadows. He hesitated for a moment, debating whether to lie or not, but he knew that Don already knew the truth, so he decided to just come out and admit it. "Yes," he stated, his voice shaking slightly in the mildewed air. "Yes, I do know what Raphael told you, and yes, it's true, all of it. And yes it's true that the others are on our RADAR." Vigil turned back to Don. "But that doesn't mean that you have to be the one to get them. It doesn't have to be you Don. We can handle the others."

"You've been trying to handle the others for eight years now," Don countered. "What's going to change now? You needed me for Raphael, and it's only a matter of time before the higher ups start asking me to get the others anyway. This way we can get them all in one fell swoop."

"But…But they're your family, your brothers and father!" Vigil gave him a sorrowful look as he was no longer able to restrain himself from using the most obvious argument. He dropped his head and buried his hands deep into the pockets of his own coat. "It was hard enough getting you to come here and do in Raphael, and now you're talkin' about trying to capture the others as well? What's goin' on here?"

Don did not respond. Instead, he produced another cigarette, lighting it to expose the rough features of his scaled face. Age lines, deep and worn appeared under his eyes and around his mouth that seemed far too advanced for one who had not even reached thirty years. His skin was paler than what it used to be, nearly like a bleached olive now. His hands were gaunt with worn and fading scars stretching across the backs and across the fingers. One finger was missing from his left hand, although, surprisingly, it barely seemed to detract from his dexterity with it.

Taking a drag with his right hand on the cigarette, he reached into his pocket with his left and pulled out a small pager-like device and tossed it through the light to Vigil. "Here. When I have them all, I'll send a signal that will set that off, which means you guys had better be ready to pick them up."

Vigil caught the fragile black device with nimble fingers. Despite knowing exactly what it was and what it could do, he could not help himself but turn it over and over in his hands inspecting every inch of it, as if it were hiding some secret that would reveal to him why Don was acting so cold to his family.

"You don't have to do this," Vigil tried to reason with him one last time. "I don't think you should. It can't be healthy for you. Just tell me why you want to go through with this." Don turned to leave then and took several steps away, heading for the exit to the parking ramp, but Vigil was not going to allow that until he was satisfied.

"ANSWER ME, DAMN IT!" He screamed. The noise rebounded around the enclosed space creating a powerful echo that reverberated in their ears for several minutes. Vigil half expected to start hearing distant car alarms in the background having been set off from the force of his yell.

Donatello paused in his escape. Neither moved for a long time until Don brought his hand up to his face and examined a small glinting object in the shape of sea turtle resting neatly on his finger. "I need to see for myself," Don said finally.

Vigil stiffened as any words he was going to say stopped in his throat, which gave his old friend the chance to continue. "If they have changed in the way that Raphael told me. After what happened, I need to see them all. I need to see what they have all become before I can even think of turning in Raph.

"And besides," Don said as he continued his motion to leave. "I already got Raphael to arrange a meeting with me and Splinter tonight, so I can't be missing from that, otherwise it would look suspicious."

Don continued walking, his hands buried deep in his pockets and the collar of his coat pulled up to shield him from the cold. There was a loud bang as the stiff exit door flew open and slammed shut again and Donatello was gone.

Casey Jones sighed heavily as he removed the pearly-white plastic from his face and ran a hand over his stubble. He was worried, to say the least. He was worried that his old friend, who he used to joke with as they upgraded their bikes in that old garage above his home, was becoming obsessed with his family but in the wrong way.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N - **This is the final chapter before the epilogue for Scoundrels. I hope you all enjoyed my attempt at a psychological thriller type deal. The epilogue is written and I will post that in a couple days. Thanks for sticking with me and this story. enjoy.

Sorry for constantly changing the summary. I was never happy with it, but this summary I'm sticking to, so don't worry.

**DISCLAIMER - **TMNT belongs to Kevin Eastman, Peter Laird, Mirage Studios and 4Kids Entertainment._  
_

* * *

_Donatello straightened the bandana across his eyes, a light frame of purple now encompassing his field of vision. He glanced over at Casey Jones, the man who acted as his contact Vigil during the past week. Casey merely nodded to him, and Don returned the gesture, returning his gaze to the giant oak doors that lay before them. He took a deep breath, reminding himself that this was the last time that he was ever going to wear this mark of violet, and strode forward, throwing open the heavy wood._

_His family was seated up at the front table of the room, as they should have been, their attire all matching save for Leonardo who still had on those bands around his body, since they were obviously the only things holding his carapace together. He walked right up to them and took them each in at a turn as he stood, dressed in a dark brown tweed suit with matching silk black tie. They all glared back at him, except for Splinter whose look was lost and sad as he seemed to study the grain of the wood on the table._

"_So, have you come to gloat or somethin'?" Raphael asked him in a none too friendly tone. Donatello ignored him and reached up, undoing the knot that rested on the back of his head. The bandanna fell away from his eyes as he gripped the material in one hand and let it gently fall to rest in front of his brothers and father on that worn wooden table._

_He left them, and headed towards the back of the room, but he stopped himself just before he passed them again to say, "You used to want to do this Michelangelo, remember? The job that I do used to be your dream in a way." He looked back at his tattooed brother to make out his reaction. Michelangelo refused to look at him, but instead had his eyes focused on the lost bandanna that meant Donatello disowned them. _

_The terrapin with the phoenix closed his eyes and reached out for the piece of cloth, clutching it tightly and cradling it against his colorful chest. "Yeah, I remember," he said slowly. "And that's why I forgive you."_

_Don flinched and scowled back at them before continuing on to take up his position at the back of the room. He sat down and watched as the man with the graying hair and wearing a flowing black robe smacked his desk with that heavy wooden mallet. "The hearing for the case against the present four members of the Hamato family may now commence."_

_The man's booming voice filled the audience chamber of the massive courtroom, but Donatello filtered it out as he watched his orange clad brother fumble with handcuffed hands as he tried to tie Don's bandanna around his eyes. Don felt a pang of remorse flood him, but it quickly subsided as he fingered the heavy metal badge that rested just inside his coat pocket, and he knew that he had no regrets._

_- - - _

The dull jazz rifts that quietly perforated the elevator were, as usually thought by its frequent riders, an annoying buzz in Donatello's ears. He glanced at his two companions in the concealing box of steel and cables. Both were relatively non-descript with dull black business suits on, and each had on the same boring expressionless mask of a face. They could almost pass as twins if it were not for the fact that they looked nothing alike.

A loud bell chorused through the cramped chamber and the brass-colored doors swung open with oiled ease at the top floor of the downtown office building. Donatello was ushered forward by his companions as they stepped out onto the thin checkered carpet of the hallway. After a quick jaunt around, they stopped in front of a massive two-door entryway leading to the penthouse of the building.

One of the men rapped his hairy and calloused knuckles on the doors, and after a few moments, a slicked-back gray haired butler greeted them. One of his escorts gave Don a quick jab in his back before turning and leaving in the same direction they had come. He watched them leave for a moment before turning his attention to the butler who was gesturing for him to enter.

Cautiously, he took a tentative step forward, placing his foot inside the door as if the room itself would burn him like lava. Once he was fully in the apartment, the butler shut the door behind him. "I will go inform the master that you are here," the butler said in a terrible impersonation of a British accent. "In the interim, please make yourself comfortable in the main living space." And with that, the man shuffled off with his stiff gait, disappearing down another hallway.

Don examined his surroundings with the enormous amount of scrutiny he had developed over the years on his own. The place was lavishly furnished with black and white leather furniture, fur rugs draped over hardwood floors, mirrors and glass trinkets decorated atop oddly warped and curved end tables. There was even a private bar, illuminated in a sea blue light and fully stocked with probably a hundred bottles of expensive liquors of all kinds. In all, don thought it was quite extravagant, impressively expensive, and stereotypically dull.

He had just sat himself down at the bar and imagined himself ordering a hard scotch on the rocks when the butler reappeared at the corner of the hallway, coughing quietly to gain Don's attention. "The master will see you now," he announced, and Don stood to follow the man with the bent back.

The trip was a short one as he was led to a backroom. The butler swung open the doors, and Donatello was greeted with a visual of a relatively short man in a black Italian business suit whose face was obscured by the newspaper he was reading. The man was sitting in a massive leather chair situated behind a wide and neatly organized polished ebony desk. The only clue He had that this man was his brother Raphael were the three-fingered dark green hands gripping the edges of the paper.

He stepped into the room, allowing the butler to close the door and leave the two newly reunioned brothers to get reacquainted with each other. He cast his eyes around the room, taking in the exquisite amber drapes and the marble statues that adorned an ornate bookshelf along one wall. Similar artistic odds and ends littered the room on various other bits of furniture along each wall.

Raphael closed the newspaper he was reading and let it fall to the desk, revealing his mask-less face, adorned with scales that appeared almost polished and glassy, and Don was sure he would have been able to see himself in his brother's bald head if he got close enough. On the wall behind him hung a pair of polished steel sai crisscrossing atop a blood red kite shield. Don gazed at the weird emblem and felt a twinge of nervousness shoot through him, so he brought his hand up to his mouth and bit down lightly on the turtle ring he wore on the hand with the missing finger.

"Well, sit your ass down already," Raph ordered as he finally looked up from the paper to take in his brother. Don obliged him and edged his way into the comfortable chair that sat on his side of the great ebony desk. As expected, his chair sunk down lower than Raph's and he was forced to look up at his brother. He reached up and bit down on the turtle again, hoping that this would make it appear to be a natural movement.

Raphael still quirked an eye ridge at the odd movement. "You've developed an odd little twitch there," he commented.

Don grinned sheepishly, masking the feeling of triumph he felt for sneaking it past his brother. "Sorry, it sort of happened after I lost the finger," Don explained.

Raphael nodded. "How did that happen exactly?" he asked.

Don put on an amused smile. "My last employer did not like when the robotic armor I built for him broke, because he did not keep it tuned like I told him. He thought it fit to punish me with his little brutes. They got lucky and took a finger just before I set off the self destruct mechanism on the suit while their boss was still wearing it." Don let the carefully rehearsed story spill forth like it was nothing, ignoring the nervous pounding in his ears.

Raphael smirked at the story. "I'd expect nothing less from my own brother," he replied merrily. "So beyond the missing finger, it looks like ya've been keepin' care o' yerself over the years."

Don nodded. "I've been getting some odd jobs to get by. They paid pretty well too, although it looks like your jobs have been paying you more." Don gestured around the room.

Raphael chortled with his gravelly almost growling laugh. "Yeah, but it was NOT easy, I gotta say that."

"Then how did you do it?" Don inquired.

Raph gave Don a small smirk. "When ya spend a nice portion o' your life beatin' down the common gangs and dumbass criminals o' the city, you tend ta figure out how they operate. And once ya figure that out, ya start ta notice why they keep fuckin' up." Raph's grin broadened just before he continued. "And when ya know how the business works, ya know how ta dominate the competition. Once that's done, I just reap the glorious profits."

"And most certainly a nice amount of profits comes with it I take it," Don commented. "How do you deal with the feds?"

Raph scowled a little. "Not as well as I would like I have to admit. The nosy bastards are makin' it harder and harder to do business everyday. Their little _Organization_ decided to focus all its attention on me." Raphael drew quotes in the air around the word 'Organization.' "I'm flattered really, but the sons of bitches jus' don't know when ta quit."

"Well, you have contacts in there at least, right?" Don asked.

Raphael smirked at him slyly. "I ain't brain dead bro. I can at least come up wit' a simple plan like dat. But there's jus' so much a few well paid dicks can give me."

Don nodded as if he understood his brother's plight, although he was silently screaming to himself, wanting nothing more than to get up and strangle some sense into his brother. "So you have a little heat on you. I doubt it's anything you can't handle."

Raph nodded. "Don't mean I'm gonna ignore it. Listen, one o' the lessons I learned from bringin' down the bigger pimps in the teenage years was ta never get over confident in how safe ya were. Tha's why I only trust close family members ta this high stuff like youse."

Don raised an eye ridge. "So I take it Casey is not your left hand man?" Don commented, hoping the face of ignorance on Casey's allegiances would add to this social camouflage he was building for himself in Raph's eyes.

And just as Don expected, Raph burst out into a bark of laughter. "Are you kiddin' Don? The Space Case went an' joined the FBI. He's one a them. Can't say I didn't expect it of 'im, but still, not my main man."

"Not even an inside contact?" Don asked.

"Nope! Case stayed straight and got lawful, complete with the fancy stick to shove up his shit hole." Raph laughed at himself as he twisted the swiveling chair back and forth, apparently enjoying bashing his old friend. Don had to retain a grimace, wondering exactly what sort of phrases Raph would use for him when everything was over.

"So, you're the head honcho as it were," Don summed up. He stroked his chin with the two remaining fingers of his left hand and allowed a small smirk to play around his beak. "I guess that just leaves us with one problem."

Raph indulged Don with a minor show of interest. "Oh, and what problem is that?"

Don smirked. "What names do we give people to tell us apart?"

Raphael barked out his laughter again. "Oh, is that all? Sorry brainiac, but that problem's already been solved."

Don stared blankly at Raph. "How is it solved?" he asked stupidly.

"Mikey came up with it," Raph explained. "He said that if youse ever came back, the difference would be that you would be 'Don,' jus' 'Don,' and I would be 'The Don.'"

Don probably should have snorted in laughter at that, but unfortunately, he was a little too shocked at what Raphael had just said to keep up his façade completely. "So," Don swallowed slightly. "So Mikey works for you?"

Raph smiled and shook his head. "Nah, I let him do his thing. I just sponsor him. Gotta give my brother a little lift in the industry, although he seems ta like to stick to the fuckin' thievery with that little gang of street shits, 'The Rejected.'" Raphael shook his head, looking almost sad. "I try ta teach him, but you know how much of a free fuckin' spirit he is."

Don could not help but let loose the grimace this time, a twitch that did not go unnoticed by Raphael. "You got a problem wit' Mikey bein' a street punk, Don?" Raph asked, a note of incredulity in his voice.

Don twitched slightly, his nerves firing rapid signals to release ambient amounts of adrenaline into his blood stream as the Flight response in his brain was triggered. He had faltered in his play and was now nearly caught. He had to think of something quick. "Sorry, I guess I'm a little concerned about Master Splinter," He improvised. "I mean, call me a Daddy's boy or whatever, but I guess I was always a little upset that I may have disgraced him, and now I'm finding out that _three_ of us are in this?" He shook his head in mock frustration, willing himself not to sweat. "He must be pretty disappointed in us.

"Then again," Don continued, pulling a cheerful voice out of his ass, he realized. "He does still have teacher's pet Leonardo. Heh, I suppose Leo's all Splinter ever really did need."

Raphael watched him intently through the whole speech, his hands clasped together in front of his face as he rested his elbows on the desk. A look of interest flooded his eyes as he studied Don with an oddly acute and calculating eye that Don never thought he would ever see on his brother. His nerves flared, and it took him a minute before he realized that he was reaching up to bite on his ring. He fought back the confusion and actually decided to continue the motion as he asked through clenched teeth, "What is it?"

Raphael gave him a dangerous smile. "Just thinkin' ya remind me of myself when I first got inta this stuff." He dropped his hands away from his face, retaining that clever knowing smile. "And Leo's not Splinter's little pretty boy bitch anymore. In fact, he probably only feels disgrace for Leo right now, considerin' he's been busy with rapin' and killin' all these years."

Don stared slightly dumbfounded at his brother, all pretenses he was supposed to be keeping up were long forgotten. "What are you talking about?"

Raphael leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers in front of that horrifying grin. "Have you heard about that serial killer around New York people are calling 'The Clean Stealer?'"

Don only nodded slightly in response. "The Clean Stealer," Don monotoned as he recalled a recent newspaper article he read. "Is a serial killer of the modern age whose reign of terror rivals that of Jack the Ripper and the Zodiac Killer combined. Named for the fact that his victims are found raped and without a head with no bruising or struggle marks apparent on their bodies, this twisted and disturbed monster has been a constant shadow of fear cast over New York for almost eight years now. No one knows what he looks like since he leaves no witnesses alive, and most, if not all descriptions of him are oddly alien and almost inhuman, often depicting him with oddly colored skin, most often green, and wearing a strange suit of armor or backpack. His targets are always young women, often college level age, but rarely older than thirty, although his youngest victim is said to have been twelve. His current death toll is measured at 43, although since the bodies are often found hidden away in highly secret locations, it is difficult to assess the total number, but police estimate it to be well into the hundreds."

"That's Leo," Raph said calmly, almost proudly just as Don finished his recitation. Raph folded the newspaper he had been reading in on itself and flipped it around, pushing it across the desk and into Don's lap.

Don glanced down at the picture on the cover. It was a headshot, probably a school ID of a familiar girl with purple dyed hair, amber eyes and a ring in her eyebrow. His eyes washed over the image and down to the caption giving the details of the girl.

_Name: Angel Constance  
Age: 23  
Height: 5'4"  
Occupation: Grad student at NYU  
44__th__ discovered victim of 'The Clean Stealer'_

Don's breath caught in his throat as he stared into the eyes of the girl he once called a close friend. His heart wrenched as he thought about how he would never get the chance to talk with her again, and the fact that it was his own brother who did this to her.

"What…what happened that would make Leo do this?" Don asked hesitantly.

Raphael quirked an eye ridge. "Something wrong with it Don?" he asked.

Don glared at Raphael, but he chose his words carefully and remained calm and casual. "You know I never liked violence much Raph, and that's true even now," he explained. "I only kill people when they deserve it…and occasionally when they're in my way, but mostly just if they deserve it. Like that guy who blamed me for his mistreatment of my machine. He deserved it for being a dumb fuck."

Raph's eyes shot open at the sudden use of profanity. "Wow, never thought I'd hear that word from you," he admitted. "And I guess ya got a point there. He does choose people who don't deserve it, and ya should know why he's like that." Raph paused for a moment while he sorted his thoughts. "In fact, it sort of explains why we all broke up as a family."

Don nodded and leaned back in his own chair trying to look casually interested as if this were just some topic that would be discussed over the dinner table. "This I have got to hear," he commented and then gestured for Raphael to explain.

Raphael smiled at him. "A little anxious ta hear your brother's downfall, are you?" Don winced slightly and Raph's smirk grew. "Don't worry 'bout it. I understand.

"Well let's see, I guess the main reason for Leo's breakdown would be Karai," Raph explained.

"Karai?"

"That's what I said. About a year and a half after you left, Karai decided to renew her efforts to take us down, although her attempts were anxious and poorly planned, at least that was what we thought at first. Two months after the foot started moving again, Karai lashed out at us and somehow separated us from Leo and subdued him. She captured Leo from right under our noses, and we never saw him again for three months. We assumed he was dead."

"I remember one of your letters mentioning that Leo was gone," Don interrupted. "I was tempted to come home then, but the next one I received said you had found him."

Raphael nodded. "Yeah, I remember Sensei writin' that damn letter. I told 'im not ta worry youse about it, but he insisted ya had a right ta know. I'm actually kind of glad ya didn't show up. Don't think you'd have wanted ta see him when we found 'im. Karai pretty much just decided to give 'im back to us, after she had had her way with him, and I mean that in every sense of the phrase."

Don flinched visibly despite himself, but thankfully, this was what Raphael must have been expecting since he only nodded and continued. "Yeah, I know how ya feel. Leo was never the same after dat. The stuff she did ta him, it even made _me _shudder. Raped him, took an eye, cut 'im up, took off parts of his shell." Raph shook his head, a look of genuine sorrow in his eyes. "It twisted 'im, which is exactly what she wanted. She beat us on that one, there's no denyin' it.

"He started goin' stir crazy like a bat shit outta hell. He had nightmare fits in his sleep, screamed for revenge a lot o' times. He never did completely heal physically. He has ta have something to support his shell now at all times.

"Eventually, he was up and trainin' again, but soon he started the killin', taking down girls in the street, blamin' them fer bein' evil sick bitches and the like. I thought I had a mouth till I heard some o' the things he screamed at these girls.

"He finally did get Karai, though. Got her 'bout two years after it all started. Got her right in her sleep. Returned the favor to the bitch and sent her straight ta hell." Raph paused to chuckle slightly, a hint of something played at the edge of his voice that Don did not recognize right away.

And then it hit him. It was awe. Raph was awed by Leo's rampant killing spree, and that thought made his stomach lurch with sudden nausea.

Desperate to get off of the topic of Leo's murder spree, Don tried to switch the conversation back to everyone else. "So that's why Leo abandoned Splinter, what about you guys?" Don asked. "Why did you leave him?"

Raph shrugged. "Well, with Leo nuts and you off, we were sort of runnin' thin on cash flow and the like. You and Leo were always the support of our family, so with youse guys gone I had ta figure out how ta keep Mikey and Splinter fed and everythin'. That's when I realized that there were two things I knew about: crime, and kickin' ass. Since there wasn't much money in kickin' ass I could make that kept me outta the public eye, I turned ta makin' some dough the same way all the guys we brought down did. There was a big open market for it, considerin' the job we did kickin' all those other guys out. I fell right inta it all. I was a natural.

"I ain't like you Donnie. I wasn't some tech guy who could jus' talk ta some people over the phone and stuff. Sure I was good wit' the bikes and trucks 'n shit, but even then, I was still an amateur and couldn't make serious money. I was desperate and I chose the less pretty path, but it's kept Splinter and Mikey in decent."

"Yeah, you said you sponsor Mikey's gang," Don recalled. "So does that mean you use your contacts to keep the spotlight off of him?"

Raph tapped his nose with his beefy finger. "Ya catch on quick, Donnie."

"What about Splinter? How do you support him? Forgive me for being a little skeptical of the idea of him accepting money laundered in this way."

"Heh, yeah, he probably would," Raph agreed. "Fortunately, he's too out of it these days to catch on. Leo's freakout broke Splinter. He got all depressed and stuff and somehow got his hands on some heroin. Got addicted ta the stuff immediately and started wastin' money on it, another reason why I got inta this business. I eventually convinced him ta start his own run. Got him ta keep up his own money and kept him in decent health at least."

"But he's still doing heroin," Don reminded not trying to hide his incredulity.

Raph nodded sadly. "Yeah, he is, but if ya think about it, he's gettin' older, so he has the right ta relax a bit nowadays. Besides, could we ever keep 'im from doin' somethin' he wanted ta do. It keeps 'im calm an' less depressed than ya might think."

Don nodded his agreement slightly reluctantly. "Alright," he admitted. "But what about Mikey? How did he take what happened to Leo?"

"Mikey actually was pretty good about Leo. He did a lot ta try an' help him, but in the end he accepted that Leo was tormented. It was Splinter's falling that hit him hard. The drug use got ta Mikey the most, probably 'cause he was the one who ended up stayin' ta take care o' Splinter, so he done watched 'im drift away.

"Eventually, when he did leave, I think he decided ta take up a cause. He always wanted ta be a superhero, but he kind of turned inta more o' a Robin Hood, rather than a Silver Sentry. He put together a gang a' kids who ran from home, got inta drugs an' stuff. He keeps them off a' that shit and keeps them sober and housed. He just has ta get his funding fer the place by stealin' an' then pawning the stuff off on the street. He's pretty careful ta only steal from people who he thinks c'n afford it. Pretty damn noble o' him, ain't it?" Raph finished with a wide, almost proud smirk, revealing a row of pearl white teeth that were almost as polished as his head.

Don was struggling to keep himself calm and neutral in appearance. He was shocked. He could not believe that his whole family had abandoned the code they once all held in such high regard. He had to see them all, just to be sure. The scientific mind of his needed to see the physical evidence of the downfall before he could ever accept it all.

"Hey Raph," Don said.

"Hmm?"

"Can you tell me where they all are? I mean, if they are all still in New York, do you think you can show me where they are so I can see them. It _has_ been almost ten years."

Raph smiled that strangely snide yet brotherly smile that Don remembered growing up with all those years ago. "Sure bro, I was actually wonderin' when ya would ask fer that. My guys c'n contact Splinter and get a meetin' wit' him pretty soon. An' Mikey will jus' jump ya the second he sees ya, so I'll tell ya where his gang's little hideout is an' you c'n just show up whenever.

"Leo…might be a bit more of a problem. Even _I _can't keep track of 'im. He pretty much is rank o' Ninja Master now. So he knows how ta cover his tracks, but I'll keep a look out fer 'im, but ya might need ta do some searchin' on your own."

Don nodded his thanks. "Cool. Now I've got another question for you."

"Shoot," Raph said, throwing his hands over his head and leaning back in his chair.

Don closed his eyes and took a deep breath, reveling in its calming nature. Ever since Raph had started telling him about what happened, an idea had been floating around in his head, and not he was using the last few seconds to debate whether or not to put this new plan into motion. After several final agonizing seconds of indecision, he made up his mind and opened his eyes to look at Raph. "You said earlier that the only people you trusted were family," Don mentioned. "I take it that means you still completely trust Leo, Splinter and Mikey, despite them kind of losing it."

Raph nodded. "Yer point?"

Don did his best to portray a devious smirk that he did not feel. "You also said that you were having some trouble with the cops, so what if I told you I had a plan to get you out of the cops light that required getting the old gang back together?"

Raph's mouth played around into the mischievous and anxious one of a man who still had the pent up need to get into a fight. "I'd say, 'Bring the Punks on!'"

Don laughed with Raph at that. It was a genuine laugh that reminded them both of old times from when they were still naïve teenagers who got a thrill from stopping Purple Dragons from robbing a local establishment right around the corner from April's old antique shop.

Don stopped his laughing abruptly. The thought flitted across his consciousness, but he caught it just before it left him and allowed for the aspect of it that caught his attention to seep into his calculating mind. His thoughts whirred randomly as he tried to piece things together, but he knew that to get the picture he wanted, the picture that he now desperately needed to see, he would need the last pieces, and he needed to get them from Raph.

"Raph?" Don said somewhat hesitantly. "You've told me about everyone now, Leo, Splinter, Mikey, Casey, even Angel. You've showed me what has happened to each of them over the past ten years, but there's one person you haven't mentioned at all. Raph, what happened to April? How did she take you guys all falling out?"

Raph stared at Don for a long time, not saying anything, but keeping his eyes locked on his long lost brother. It was never like Raph to think about how to say things. It was his nature to just say anything and everything that came to mind for him at the time of conversation, and yet here he was, calculating and formulating a careful answer to Don's question. That thought alone gave Don a horrible sense of foreboding that he felt like a heavy weight in his stomach.

Finally, one of them moved. Raph stood from his chair and stepped over to a cabinet that he opened to reveal a wide assortment of hard liquors. He got out two snifters and meticulously poured something into each, recapped the bottle he used and then swirled the contents in the glass with practiced care. "Brandy?" he asked, holding one of the glasses out to Don.

Don looked at the glass for a moment before taking it from his brother. Once the glass of alcohol had left Raph's hand, he turned around and pulled open the drapes to reveal the city glowing in the night sky, his hazy silhouette partially visible in the clean glass. "April was quite helpful to Leo," he said eventually. "She bandaged his wounds and she came up with the harness that keeps his shell together now. She also tried to help him with his mental health. She did all she could to coax him and try to help him recover from the encounter. She even bought a few books on emotional trauma of rape victims. In all, it was a valiant effort, and in the end, she really did help him."

"What do you mean by, 'In the end'?" Don asked, his gut twisting in anticipation of news he knew he did not want to here.

Raphael turned to him, a small smile playing at his beak as he took a small swig of his brandy, smacking his lips at the potent flavor. "I mean she helped make him what he is today," he explained, his smile growing with each word. "After all." He held up one finger with his free hand. "She _was_ his first."

The bombshell was too much for Don and his hand flew to his mouth, slamming the ring between his teeth and biting down so hard his mouth hurt. Something sharp danced on his tongue and he realized that he had probably just chipped his tooth, but that did not matter right then. All that mattered to him was his brothers. The thought came through him like a wave. His brothers and father had all allowed this to happen. They had abandoned their way of life and now had brought a hell to the city.

"Hope that didn't upset ya too much Don," Raph commented.

Don calmly dropped his hand from his mouth, a devilish smirk toying at the corners of his beak that was no longer any sort of act. "What can you expect, she _was_ my first crush Raph. You knew that," he said calmly and matter-of-factly.

Raphael laughed in response, downing the last of his brandy. "Yeah, I suppose so. Sorry about that," he apologized. "So anyway, about this plan of yours."

Don nodded. "I'll set up a holo-projector that I designed and bring it to you tomorrow to show you the details."

"Sounds good," Raph agreed. "Pleasure doin' business with you Mr. Hamato Donatello." Raph held out his hand in a very businessman manner.

Don looked at his brother's hand for a moment before taking it in his and commenting, "I feel the same Mr. Hamato Raphael."

With that, Don downed his own brandy and left Raphael to his business. The butler escorted him all the way to the lobby of the apartment complex, and Don took off to his car and drove home.

Just as he got on the road, he whipped out his cell phone and dialed a number as he drove down the deserted late night streets. It rang several times before he finally got an answer. "This is agent Hamato checking in after the meeting," Don ordered into the phone. "Tell Vigil that I need to meet with him immediately. I'll be waiting in the prearranged location tomorrow night at 2:00 am." Don snapped the phone shut and pocketed it, returning his full attention to the road.

His drive home was calm and monotonous as he went. He left the stereo off and allowed himself to be absorbed into the silent void that came with the eerie emptiness that Manhattan was exhibiting that night. Overhead lamps began shutting off, guiding him through an ever darkening tunnel.

Fifteen minutes later, he was back at his hotel room. He slowly and calmly shut the door and promptly fell to the ground, letting all his weight connect with the door behind him. He wrapped his arms around his legs, hugging them close to his clothed and itching plastron, and he dropped his head so his eyes were buried deep within his knees.

And there, in that silent and cheap motel filled with the stench of old musk and bad sex, he thought about his brothers, he thought about his father, he thought about Casey and Angel, and he thought about April. And he cried.

* * *

**A/N - **Was Don too obvious by the end? And also, what did you all think of everyone's reasons at the end here. Please tell me who you sympathize with in the story since I tried to make them all sympathetic. Also, the epilogue will give a last shred of insight about Don, so please stick around for it. 


	7. Epilogue

**A/N -** Thank you all for reading this story. I found it a thrill to write and am quite pleased with the reviews that people gave and what they thought of my portrayals. The idea was to see the four of them as cold and monstrous, but still leave that hint of humanity in them, despite them not being, well, human. I hope I portrayed that well enough.

To answer a couple questions from reviews, what makes this a parody is that the format of the writing (i.e. the backwards story with the ending scene intro to each chapter) was originally inspired from a movie called "Memento" which portrayed a story developing backwards. As for how Don ended up with the FBI, unfortunately, I did not think that a necessary part of the story, so there is no mention of that here in the epilogue. The point of this epilogue was to end the story on a slightly lighter note, which is a bit of a change from my usual writing as of late, and to also give a little more insight into how Don saw everything. I may, MAY consider a sequal to this that will have details of how Don got in with the FBI, but that will only happen if I get a REALLY GOOD idea for a sequal.

And one more quick clarification, it was mentioned that Raph may have been better suited for a physical job over a drug dealer. Maybe I did not portray him the right way then, as the idea was that Raphael was actually the MAJOR crime lord of the city now. So basically, he controlled everything in the underworld of New York. Does that seem more fitting for him?

Again, thanks to all who reviewed. Enjoy the epilogue.

**DISCLAIMER - **TMNT belongs to Kevin Eastman, Peter Laird, Mirage Studies and 4Kids Entertainment.

* * *

He stood, silhouetted in the moonlight with the bouquet of flowers in his hands, staring downward, a peaceful look on his face. His stillness was what masked his presence, making him easily perceived as one of the many marble and granite effigies that surrounded him. The only thing that proved he was not one was the way his clothes and the flowers in his hands swayed slightly in the nightly breeze. 

He stooped for a brief moment, gingerly placing the flowers down on the earth in front of the tablet in before him. He straightened and again took up his vigil over the polished masonry, absorbing every detail of the text etched into the immortal stone.

April O'Neil Jones_  
Apr 21, 1980 - December 1, 2009  
Beloved wife and mother  
Found friends in the oddest places_

Donatello smiled briefly at the phrase at the bottom, thinking back to that fateful day when they rescued her from the mousers in that dead end sewer tunnel. "I'm sorry I let it happen," he whispered to the night air and all those listening. Silently, he zipped up his coat and buried his hands into his pockets as he meandered through the cemetery maze and headed back home.

- - -

Don rechecked everything in his suitcase and then stuffed away an extra everything in the minor remaining crevices before deciding that he was finished. He then noticed the footsteps on the stairs just outside his room, and he turned around just as Casey was reaching the top of the landing. Don turned back and sealed the suitcase up, allowing Casey to enter the spare room and examine things.

"Tha' was the DA on the phone," Casey announced. "Mikey and Leo pled guilty. Mikey should be out in a couple o' years, and Leo was put inta a maximum-security psychiatric ward. Splinter and Raph put up a bit more of a fight, but ended up gettin' convicted for a life sentence each."

Don merely made a soft "hmm" in reply as he attached a tag to the handle of the case that had all the details of his identity on it. He could feel Casey's eyes bore into his back as his old friend waited for a slightly more in depth response. Unfortunately, Don had no intention of obliging him, and instead, busied himself with some mundane preparations that were relatively insignificant, hoping Casey would drop it.

Casey, however, was not interested in dropping it, and his heavy sigh told Don so. "I thought you would at least be somewhat interested, Don," Casey stated.

"Sorry to disappoint you," Don stated rather flatly. He turned around to give Casey a casual glance, his face an expressionless mask. "I think I just want to leave this all behind me, for now at least."

"What about when Mikey gets out?" Casey asked.

Don just shrugged. "We'll see when that comes to pass."

Casey nodded and went silent, so Don turned back around and locked the suitcase. Gripping the leather handle, he hoisted it off the bed and dropped it onto the ground, letting it rest on its wheels. "Thanks for letting me use your spare room," he said. "I should be able to find my own place soon, and then I'll be out of your hair."

Casey shook his head. "Not a problem man. It's been great havin' ya back." He gave a quick thumbs up and winked, forcing out a small chuckle and grin from Don.

Casey pulled his hand back and stuffed both of his into his pockets. "So you're really gonna be stayin' back here in New York?" He asked.

Don nodded. "Yeah, I think my training mission is plenty over now."

"Good ta know, especially since Kally's takin' such a likin' to ya."

Don grinned as a flash of the little black haired girl ran across his memory. She looked exactly like her father, except for her bright green eyes, which always reminded Don of April. "Good thing the eyes and the brain came from the same gene pool," Don remarked.

Casey feigned hurt for a moment. "My gene pools got plenty o' goods in it. Fer instance, my genes c'n pick out good genes to mix with." He pointed a finger at Don's legs where Don was wearing a pair of faded pants that were ripped and patched in several places. "And yer jeans might not be the best ta mix wit'. Not 'til I take ya shoppin' man."

Don gave a cheeky smile to the man before him whose own jeans were only in slightly better condition. Although, he knew that Casey was just bating him to make a comment on them so he could say his bad was in the "style" of bad. Instead, he just shook his head. "I'll have to take you up on that offer when I get back," he suggested. "But right now we need to get going. My plane leaves in a couple hours, so we should probably get going soon."

"Way ahead of ya man," Casey said with a brisk proud grin. "I already got Kally's and my suitcases in the van, and Kally should be getting' back fr'm Angel's place soon from droppin' off Klunk."

If Don had not been so startled, he might have made a comment about wondering where that demon spawn had been. Instead, he just stared blankly at Casey for several moments before finally bringing himself to blurt out, "What…what are you talking about?"

Casey laughed merrily. "Come on Don. Youse aren't the only one who needed a vacation after that job. I booked a flight fer me and Kally right after ya booked yours. Besides, it would do 'er some good ta see the Smithsonian wit' someone who c'n explain everythin' to 'er."

Don laughed outright at that. "Yeah, I suppose it would be good to go with someone who won't mistake the Declaration of Independence for the first issue of Superman."

Casey joined in the laughing as they both started walking out of the room and down the stairs. They sent a few jibes at each other several times on the way down, and by the time they reached the van and had stashed away Don's luggage in the back, they both actually had small streams of tears running down their faces from laughing so hard.

Choking back his hysterics slightly as he slammed the back door shut, Casey turned around and leaned against the van with the cracked and rusting eggshell paint job, wiping away the last remnants of tears from his eyes. Along side of him, Don did the same, and a minute of silence past between them as the last of the giggling subsided.

Finally, Casey glanced at the ground and broke the silence. "Ya never answered my question," he stated.

Don blinked for a second before turning his quizzical gaze to Casey. "What do you mean?"

"Back in the parkin' structure," Casey explained. "I asked you why ya wanted ta go through wit' tryin' ta catch yer brothers and Splinter. You told me ya wanted ta see what they've become, but that can't be the reason. Maybe if you were jus' gonna think it ovah before goin' after 'em, but you had already made up yer mind by then. What was yer real reason fer goin' after 'em?"

Don glanced down at the ground, shuffling his bare feet across the gravel of the driveway. "Way to kill the mood, Casey," he remarked.

"I try my best."

Don was silent for a long time, and Casey almost thought he was going to keep it a secret and not tell him. But just as he was about to ask again, Don spoke. "It's because Leo promised me."

Casey looked over at him to completely take in the sad and brooding look in Don's eyes. "Ten years ago, on the day I was leaving to go on my training mission, I was sitting in my room, having second thoughts about agreeing to go. I was really tempted at the time to run out and beg Splinter to let me stay, and maybe, if I promised to dedicate myself to ninjutsu more often, he would let me remain in the lair.

"That was when Leo came into my room and sat down to talk with me. I told him then what I was afraid of. I told him of the fact that when he went away he stayed for much longer than his training was supposed to last because he didn't get right away what he was sent away to learn. I told him that while he was gone, we fell apart as a family, and we barely talked to each other, and that it was because he was gone for so long. I told him that when he came back and we were whole again, and that that was the most relieved and happy I had felt in a long time, and I knew that Mikey and Raph felt the same way…well, eventually Raph felt the same way.

"And then I told him that I was afraid the same thing would happen if I left. I told him that I hated myself for thinking I was so important and that I didn't think the family could not stay strong without me. I still told him that I was afraid my leaving would cause pain to the family, and that I couldn't bear the thought of not being there to help them when they needed it.

"And then Leo promised to me that he would not let the family break up while I was away, and that he would keep them together, and that he would make sure that I could take all the time I needed to perfect my training, even more than he had taken if necessary. And he promised it all with such confidence that I couldn't help but agree with him.

"And so I left, and I took my time, and I trained, and I built things, and I studied, and time went by. Eventually, I got caught up in everything and I ended up getting a job as a detective in Miami. So I ended up staying longer than I had intended. I wanted to come home. I often wondered how the family was doing without me, but I told myself they were getting along just fine. I told myself they didn't need me right then, that they had Leo to take care of them, and that he was the one they needed to stay healthy and not me. And I was confident that Leo was taking care of them all, because he promised me he would.

"He promised me he would keep them together, but now, years later, I come back and find that he broke that promise. They fell apart and wound up in criminal fields all over the city, because Leo broke his promise to me. They needed me to be there with them, but I was too busy being confident that Leo could keep them all together. I abandoned them. And then, I couldn't help but feel like it was my fault that this happened, and that it was my responsibility to deal with them."

Don paused for a moment, throwing his head back against the van and sucking in a deep and relaxing breath. He closed his eyes, the images of his brothers and father playing over in his mind again and again. "And so that's what I did," he announced. "I took responsibility for them and turned them in. It was the only thing I could do for them now."

"Damn! I need a cigarette," he called out as he fished for his zippo and pack of Camels. Casey said nothing as he lit up and took a long drag. They both remained silent as Don finished his first and went for a second, and they retained the silence until he was grinding the butt of the third into the gravel driveway.

"If it makes a difference, I think ya did the right thing," Casey said.

Don looked over at him as the last traces of smoke escaped his beak. "Which part, the going away or turning them in?" he asked, a sarcastic note playing in his voice.

"Both," Casey stated flatly, earning him a confused stare from Don. "As much as I hate to admit it, after what happened ta Leo, I think it was inevitable that they all fall like that. And youse bein' gone, at the very least that meant ya were away and couldn't be corrupted inta fallin' as well."

Don nodded in silence. "Maybe," he admitted. "But I can't help wondering."

"No shit," Casey agreed. "Well, we'd bettah get this pahty goin'. He'e comes Kally now." A small, eight-year-old girl came jogging down the sidewalk, waving at them frantically, a thick novel clutched in one hand. Don smiled sadly as he recognized the cover as a book he gave April to read many years ago.

When she caught up to them, they all piled into the van: Casey in the driver spot, Don in the passenger seat and Kally in the back. Casey started the engine and quickly turned to look at his passengers. "So," he called in a jovial manner. "Youse all ready fer some culture?"

"You bet!" Came Kally's enthusiastic reply from the back. Turning her attention to Don, she said, "Thanks for letting us come along Uncle Donnie. It's nice being able to go the Smithsonian with someone who doesn't mistake the Declaration of Independence for the original Star Wars script."

Don could not help himself but bark out the laughter, while Casey flushed a bright red color and grumbled under his breath as he backed the van out of the driveway and they headed off for a well-deserved break.


End file.
